You Can't Always Win
by JimmyBreakfastPig
Summary: Between his mother, who has spiraled into a disembodied haze of a parental figure, and the constant harassment he gets from his peers in school, Tweek's life hasn't been quite too kind to him. He's constantly fighting an up hill battle that he can't win, and soon the toll crushes him. But maybe this battle has a silver lining.


**AN: So this is my first story ever published. I'm cool with any kind of criticism, just try not to be too rude. If there's any horrifying grammar issues, PLEASE TELL ME, I'm just one person, I make mistakes. I have absolutely no idea how many chapters there'll be, but expect more than 2. I really hope you enjoy my story and come back for more :).**

**TRIGGER WARNING:**

**Bullying, violence, etc.**

**This is the only time I'm gonna say it so please don't read it if it will hurt or offend you in anyway.**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Tweek was half-convinced they wanted to kill him. Or at least, at minimum, beat his face in. It was a struggle he swore only he had to deal with. Every day he would get on the bus, get harassed by the kids that sat in the back, get off, go through his classes with a couple snide remarks here and there, go to lunch, get shit thrown at him, fumble a bit, go home, cry, repeat. And today was no different.

He sighed, pulling his pants up over his legs and struggling with the button. God today was gonna fucking suck. He didn't want to go to school, but he didn't want to stay here. He just….. Wanted to leave, to just go somewhere. He grabbed one of his shirts off of one of the hangers in his closet before pausing. He looked over at the clock that sat on his desk.

7:45

"_Shit!"_

He hastily pulled the shirt on before grabbing his jacket and gloves, followed by his shoes, before slipping out of his room. He didn't want to talk to his mom. Not yet. He swiftly tiptoed down the steps and out the door into the early October morning before she could even see him. He loved his mom, he really did. She just had…..issues.

He jogged past a couple of the houses before he plopped down to put his shoes on. The bus stop was only about half a block away and he was there in no time. He stayed off to the right a bit, away from everyone else, just in case he might be in the way. Which always resulted in him being one of the last people on the bus, which, in turn meant everyone would be staring at him. Plus he probably won't get a seat so there's a plus. He trudged down the aisle mumbling a couple "sorries" and "my bads" until he finally found a seat. And thank GOD it was next to someone he knew.

Wendy looked up at him before smiling and motioning for him to sit down. He liked Wendy she was a nice girl and she never picked on him. She just….understood. Even if she was passionate and loud. Whenever Wendy was around no one wanted to fuck with him. Which was great for him and he began to think that maybe today wasn't going to be such a big disappointment.

**...  
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First period was one of Tweek's least favourite classes. He had Biology, which grossed him out pretty badly. He absolutely hated it, and the only reason he had Biology, instead of Earth Science, was because when he filled out that weird little pink slip they give you, that asks you what classes you want, he panicked, and checked the first box he could see. Which just so happened to be Biology. And he was always too nervous to go up to the front office and ask the school's counselor to change it.

Not only did the class include sharp objects that caused Tweek to always have a sneaking suspicion that he'll accidentally cut himself with one of them and die from infection. But his lab partner was a complete twat.

Tweek made his way from his locker to the lab, taking extra caution in his steps. The putrid smell of preserved fish parts could be smelt a couple halls down and once he finally walked into the room, his stomach lurched and his knees grew weak. He quickly sat down at his table before he got sick, and pulled out his notebook. Having such a shitty class first thing in the morning really sucked the life out of Tweek, and by the time he got home he was already fed up with everything. But he was hoping that such a good start on the bus today, would help better his feelings towards his shit school. He opened up his notebook when the bell finally rang, and Mr. Sparse maneuvered through the students to the front of the class.

"Hello students, Mr. Sparse began. Today you will be dissecting 3 different types of fish."

He paused to scowl at a couple students who walked in late, before going back to his instructions.

"You and your partner will come up to my desk when I call your number, with clean, gloved, hands and a metal tray. I'll give you guys your fish and a booklet and then send you on your way. Ok?"

The class gave a jumble collection of noises, beginning to prepare for their lesson.

Tweek began scanning the room to see if his partner was there or not. He looked over at Stan, whose partner was Clyde, and then zoomed passed a couple of familiar faces, landing finally on Mr. Sparse, who had begun giving students their fish. He turned himself around just to make sure he wasn't hiding behind him or anything of the sort, when realization crept onto his dried up, bitten down lips, along with the start of a grin.

Cartman wasn't there. Tweek didn't give a single fuck about where he might be, but he wasn't there. For a full 8 hours he would be spared degrading names such as "Twink" and "Gay boy". He might have actually enjoyed biology, in all honesty, if Cartman weren't his lab partner. He did well in the class and Mr. Spare was funny enough, but that oversized cunt made life so difficult for a kid who already had it rough. Not to mention every other muscle bound jock head who came within 15 feet of him.

With his smile still intact, Tweek sauntered up to Mr. Sparse's desk after he had washed his hands and donned latex gloves, inwardly beaming with glee.

"Here you go Tweek." Mr. Sparse said, slapping a rainbow trout onto his tray. "I figured if it was a bit more colourful, you wouldn't flip out as much." Tweek grinned a thank you at his teacher before going back to his table.

Now that Cartman wasn't there to harass him until he cried, Biology zoomed by in an instant, along with Physics and Econ, and he soon found himself walking down the gray hall towards the lunchroom.

He sat alone.

Always.

Sometimes Tweek didn't even eat lunch, it seemed tedious to him, but if his mother knew she would have a complete fit about it. "You're already skinny enough!" she'd say, grabbing his wrist to run her hands down his forearm. "You need to eat!" He looked over at the line that seemed to go on for far to long and sighed. He hated Lunch. He hated everything.

He quietly shuffled over to one of the more deserted tables and sat down. There were only 2 other people, and they were over on the other side of the table chatting about something or other while Tweek pulled out his book. That's all he ever did. He read. He loved it. It was like a doorway for him. A doorway into a world where he didn't need to worry about Cartman, or his mom, or his estranged lack of friends. He didn't need to worry about anything. It was peaceful and rich and warm and inviting. And he never discriminated. He read everything from Harry Potter to Leven Thumps. The catcher in the Rye to Of Mice and Men. Little Woman, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Jane Eyre. Anything and everything. He liked unconventional things. Boys aren't supposed to like reading. His dad would always say this to him all the time. But he kept reading and kids kept bullying him and it was cool because books were cool, and the underdog always made it out on top.

That was the best part.

Tweek blinked his eyes at his book. He looked up, watching all the kids bustle about when the bell suddenly rang. He pulled himself up, gathered his stuff and began to shuffle by the immense horde of children trying to make their way to their next class. It would take him a bit to get to English. But if he got out of the Lunchroom in the next couple of minute he'd probably make it. Tweek wiggled his way around kid after kid until he ran straight into a 6 foot 5 mass of flesh.

Jered Fletcher. Which was a really stupid sounding name if you asked Tweek. But no one ever did.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He turned spitting in Tweek's face.

Fuck.

"Jered, I'm sorry, I just need to get to class." Tweek tried to slip past, shoving his remaining hand into his pocket, but was stopped abruptly by a hand on his wrist.

"I haven't seen you in sometime gay boy, were ya been?" the grip on Tweek's wrist grew tighter. It was definitely gonna leave bruises.

"Dude, just let go, please?" Tweek cast his eyes down to the floor. He didn't need this. Jered's friends circled around the pair, one throwing his stuff out of his hands were Tweek saw shoes trample over it. They were backing him towards a side maintenance door. It led out to a garage where they used to hold shop class about two years ago, but it had since then been used to destroy the self-esteem of every poor soul who had the misfortune of being themselves.

Jered spent no time throwing a punch at Tweek's stomach, forcing the blonde down onto the gravel path with a disgusting croak that ripped itself from his stomach.

"Don't fuck around down there cock sucker, get up!" Jered's friends laughed in amusement. It was a game to them.

Tweek eyes widened as he stumbled back onto his feet. He was scared and furious, all at the same time. He didn't know what to do. He was so, so sick of this. This shit got old fast but every day it was something new. Tweeks gay, he's a faggot, he's got issues, did you hear about what Tweek did, yeah he's such a fucking loser. He lowered his eyebrows as Jered stalked around him yelling slurs and looking like he was having just a dandy old fucking time. The anger was starting to boil over.

"whatcha been up to princess? How's dad? Hmmm?"

"Shut up Jered!"

Tweek felt the blood flowing from his face before he had even realized Jered had hit him. He stumbled back suddenly. He had fucked up bad and he didn't even care. He could feel the tears now, hot against his frozen cheeks. He bumped into one of the guys, who pushed him back into the middle of the circle.

"What, are you gonna cry about it? Is your boyfriend gonna come and save you? Hmmm faggot?!" Tweek only ground his teeth in fury. "Is he gonna come and protect you from the big mean bully?" Jered feigned sympathy. "No, he's not, because no one wants you! You're a freak, Tweek! A waste of fucking space. A disappointment. A burden on all of us."

"Stop!"

"You have no friends, no one to love you because you're useless!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

Tweek heaved himself at Jered, tripping him up, and pushing him onto the frozen solid ground.

"What the fuck do you really know about me?!" Tweek began. Jered quickly got back onto his feet as his friends grabbed Tweek by the arms, holding him in his place. He landed one punch to the blonde's stomach, Tweek's breath sputtering out of him like a sad tornado, when another hit landed him onto his knees. He heard a quick snap when Jered kicked him in his side, and then he was weightless, his face suddenly smashed against the gravel. They had let go of him.

The sound of distant footsteps gave him no relief. His stomach was on fire and he was sure he had broken something. Tweek wriggled around just to be sure before trying to move too much. He didn't feel any sort of shooting pain, which was good, but he still felt like complete shit.

He gingerly crept back onto his feet that wobbled around like gelatin. He immediately checked his clothing for any rips and holes. There was one on his pant leg, which meant everyone was gonna ask questions on why he looked like a group of overly testosterone filled apes beat the holy ghost out of him.

Tweek snuck his way back through the maintenance door and hastily discovered that his copy of Lord of The Flies and his backpack were both gone. Which was complete bullshit. He stared at the scuffed linoleum with grief. That was one of his favourite books and some ass wipe had fucking stolen it, along with what little possessions he had. The lunch room was a ghost town, and he indignantly marched himself to the nearest bathroom, the high from his scuffle with Jered quickly rubbing off.

Tweek was so tired. He was so upset, and when he finally pulled his knees up to his chest in the least disgusting stall he could find. He cried. He cried, and cried, and cried some more. He felt petty and insignificant as the tears welled up.

It wasn't his fault.

His body drooped in regret, shaking with the intensity of his sobs. It wasn't his fault he was so fucked. But at the same time, to everyone else. It was. No one ever tried to listen. They took one look at him and hated him instantly. They threw words in his face like it was nothing. Like it was cool to destroy someone from the inside out.

When it first started to happen, he was dumb struck, confused as to why he was being hit. He was 12. He had been so ok for the longest time. He had friends, Clyde, and Token, and Jimmy.

And Craig.

But once it started happening, he couldn't put his feelings together. He became more and more of a wrecked kid. He was already fucked up to begin with, but he didn't think anyone cared up until it was being broadcasted to everyone on a daily basis. Tweek started to close in on himself. It was to much for a kid like him to handle.

His ticks became increasingly erratic. He stopped communicating with his friends and family. He threw his life away for a more appealing fictional one. But he was never depressed. He was just….sad. He wanted to leave and never come back. He wanted to run away from his problems without an ounce of doubt or regret. He just wanted…..

Tweek pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen read 1:40. He had almost completely missed English, and he couldn't care less. He dropped his feet down onto the grody tiled floor and rubbed his eyes. He never got enough sleep because of the constant rumble of thoughts that filled his head each night, and last night wasn't any exception.

When he unwillingly decided to looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his lips stretched over his teeth. He looked nightmarish. The left side of his nose was decidedly spotted with mushy, reds and light purples, blood dried from it down to his chin. His face was painted with patches of dirt and dried mud, and his hair was more unruly than usual. He looked downright disgusting. He wet a handful of paper towels with cold water and set to work scrubbing the filth off, trying his best to not touch his nose too much.

No matter how many times it happened he still couldn't cope very well. Even if it happened every week, every day, every hour, he still wouldn't be able to grasp why these were supposed to be the best years of his life.

Mrs. Whales was a ray of sunshine in a desolate, damp cave. She was amazing, what Tweek had always wanted in a grandmother. She taught Home Ec. in room 206 and she was his last class of the day. She was a stout, chubby old woman whose vibrant personality threw itself into everything she did. Whether it be painting a portrait of her cat, Chester, or teaching the class how to use a slip stich in a quilt, you could always feel her presence before you saw it.

When Tweek walked in the door with nothing but his scarf in his hand, Mrs. Whales looked over at him and gave a knowing smile. She never questioned, only understood. He walked his way over to table 4, where he sat himself down next to Kyle Broflovski, who already seemed to be busy with stitching their final project before school let out for Christmas Break. It was a stocking that counted for 30 % of their grade. Tweek bent down to pull out his stuff from the little cubby underneath the desk, where his sewing supplies was usually kept, and found his shit sufficiently wrecked.

"Sorry Tweek, I had to use some of your pins for this damned thing to even resemble a fucking stocking." Kyle spat morosely at his jumbled mess.

Tweek liked Kyle. A lot. Kyle had actually taken the time to try and understand him. Plus they both got pushed around by Cartman on a regular basis, the only difference being that Kyle wasn't a little bitch when it came to sticking up for himself. The guy was an absolute spit fire, and held himself in suck a complete way. Kyle knew who he was.

"It's ok." Tweek mumbled back. Kyle looked over at him, his eyes flickering back in forth with slight confusion. He watched Tweek for a moment, his gaze slowing to the massive bruise forming on Tweek's face.

"Are you ok?" Tweek nodded his head rather unconvincingly and Kyle sighed, scooting himself, and all of his supplies towards Tweek.

"Do you want to help me with my disgusting mess of a stocking?"

**...**

Tweek reached into his back pocket for his set of keys, the soft breeze from the morning had since then turned into a bustling storm. He unlocked the door, shoving it open with a bit of force, the suffocating warmth hitting his face immediately. He could hear the clinking of glasses and plates in the kitchen where his mom was finishing up dinner.

After school had ended, Tweek decided to walk home instead of ride the bus. He didn't want the extra hassle of unruly kids throwing shit at the back of his head, and some fresh air and alone time hadn't sounded too bad to him at the time.

"Hi sweetheart." His mother cooed. Time hadn't been too kind to his mother in the past few years or so. Nowadays she looked so tired and lackluster most of the day.

Tweek slid past his mother in the kitchen, to go sit down at the small two seated table they usually ate dinner at. She looked over at him, giving no indication she even noticed his slowly swelling face.

"How was your day at school sweety?" She grabbed two plates off of the counter and set them down on either side of the table.

He wanted to go to bed. It was so plainly obvious on his face what kind of day he was having.

"Good." She smiled at him as she took her place at the tiny table.

"Did you make any new friends today?"

"Yes."

"That's good."

The entirety of dinner usually went like this. His mother asking him awkward and pointless questions she asked every single day, and him giving her things she wanted to hear. The ordeal was soon over and he washed up his dishes before going up to his room for the night.

Tweek closed the door to his bedroom before swapping his clothing out for pajamas. The weight of the day's events dragged his shoulders to the floor. He slumped over to his dresser mirror to do a final once over, before turning his lamp off and slipping into bed. There was no point in staying up when his backpack was gone. He couldn't do his school work and when he stayed up, it gave his mind a chance to wander. He'd have to check the lost and found tomorrow just in case he came across some kind of luck. He doubted it.

Tweek soon felt himself dozing off into a fitful rest, his muscles finally giving way to dull, and unintelligible slumber. He needed help. His mom needed help. He just didn't know where to start. He was lost, bewildered, nervous, there was no one in his corner. There was no one there to cheer on the underdog.

Tweek just hoped he could change that.


End file.
